


She Stirs

by shedrovemehere



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Kayfabe Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 22:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11542044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shedrovemehere/pseuds/shedrovemehere
Summary: Bayley is tired of people treating her like a child. When the anger finally hits her, she doesn't feel like herself anymore.“There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”





	She Stirs

**Author's Note:**

> This was for the [Dog Days of Summer Fic Writing Challenge](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/dog-days-of-summer-fic-writing-challenge) on Tumblr. My prompts were:
> 
> \- “Well I have no idea what we’re discussing but color me intrigued!”  
> \- Airport  
> \- It’s 2 AM in (LOCATION) and someone is starting a debate with you.

* * *

**_“There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.” -_ Patrick Rothfuss _, The Wise Man’s Fear_**  
  
  
It was 2am in… some airport. Bayley couldn’t even remember. Somewhere in Minnesota… or maybe Montana? She was tired. So, so tired. But awake; it wasn’t the heavy-lidded kind of tired the rest of her traveling companions were—passed out on benches and floors, slumped over suitcases. Tired in that existential way, the kind where your body feels weak but your mind feels terrifyingly sharp, though never, ever good. Past exhaustion to stunning, honest clarity. 

She was tired as in _fed up_. As in, _sick to shit of this._ She’d been trying to ignore it like she always did, but now, burned out and with the acuity to see herself from the outside, it was crashing over her just how much bullshit she’d been just letting roll off her. Nothing was happening at gate B7, but she felt fire in her cheeks, thinking of the way they'd all treated her over the past year. _How could I let them do that?_ Even her friends acted like she was incapable of making her own choices, or fighting her own battles. She slumped in her chair, too antsy to play Candy Crush even one more round. If she'd had the energy, she’d have be pacing back and forth.

“Cheer up, buttercup!” Roman grinned at her from the bench across the aisle. He probably meant well but in that moment, she felt like she could have punched his dumb beautiful face into a pulp for telling her to cheer up. Men were always telling her to smile, be her huggable self. _It makes those fuckers uncomfortable when I’m not placid_. She resented it to her core, but she had an image to maintain. Chipper, bright. _Taking everyone’s shit. Being pushed aside because why would I mind? I’m so goddamn understanding._ Roman probably didn’t deserve the glare he received for his troubles, but she scowled for every asshole who’d told her to smile when she didn’t want to, for every stupid fucker who’d underestimated her because she was _just so gosh darn cute_. She felt herself lean into the anger, her normal defenses whittled away by the exhaustion. “Geez, I’m sorry, Bee.” Roman looked genuinely concerned.

“Nah, I’m sorry, Ro,” she sighed, and she was. But she was only sorry she’d taken it out on him, not that she felt angry. She spent so much time telling herself _don’t get angry. Kiddos are watching you. You can’t let people get you down._ She spent so much time feeling guilty for her rage, for her disappointment. _Just think positively!_ But now in her clarity, she felt anger like ice in her veins, like power in her chest. “I deserve to be mad sometimes,” she said quietly to herself, staring at Roman’s shoes.

“What?” Roman looked even more concerned now. “I mean, of course you do, Little Bee.” _Don’t call me that. I’m not a child._ When she set her jaw and continued staring at his feet, he knew he’d fucked up. “Bayley.” 

_If that’s what it takes to get you to address me respectfully._ She looked into his eyes, and his brow was knit with concern. _He’s not my enemy._ She made an effort to soften her face. “I’m sorry, Ro. I was just thinking… about… I mean… do you ever feel like people don’t take you seriously?” 

Roman straight up _cackled_ at the airport gate, at 2am, with everyone sleeping. Realizing what she’d said, Bayley’s hands flew up to her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud, too. Eyes wide and teary, they stared at each other and quaked silently with laughter. Behind Bayley, Finn stirred and grumbled something unintelligible but unmistakably unkind. That just made them both laugh harder. 

“I’m so sorry Ro!” Bayley was wiping tears from her eyes. “I didn’t mean…”

“I know you didn’t, Bee.” Roman was still trying not to smile. “I know. It’s okay. I had to resolve to laugh about it long ago.” That wiped his smile away. “You okay, though?” Behind her, Finn stirred again, and swore, again.

 _Good question._ As the light moment ebbed away, Bayley felt that steely clarity return, like high tide, like something inside her was incubating and growing, not to be ignored. This time she welcomed it, she was ready for it. _No one can take this from me_. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just… tired.” _No more polite excuses_. "No, you know what Ro? I’m really tired of being tossed aside and passed over. People think because I’m nice I’m a pushover, that I won’t care when they take advantage of me. Not _you_ , of course, but… ugh. I’m so done. I’m so…” _rage. teeth. red. blood. black._ “Ugh. I’m ready to fight." 

Roman winced, and looked like he was choosing his words carefully. “You’re right, Bee.” He paused for a bit. “But they don’t let you fight in the Grand Rapids airport.” 

_Ah, Michigan, not Minnesota or Montana._ Bayley smiled. _But don’t tell me no. This isn’t up for debate._

Roman locked eyes with her. “I get why you’re mad. I do. But hey, don’t sink to their level, okay? You’re better than that.”

 _Don’t fucking tell me to be quiet._ “What if I’m not though?” she couldn’t control the bile in her voice. “What if I don’t want to be? What if I’m _fucking sick_ of this shit?” She couldn’t summon the words to describe the fiery pressure building in her heart. “I feel like… like something is going to tear out of me. I haven’t let myself be mad for so long, and now I feel like I can’t put it back.”

Roman looked stunned. Bayley knew on some level that she shouldn’t be saying the things she was, because she didn’t want him or anyone to worry, or worse, dismiss her. She clenched her fists and teeth. 

“This is probably good for you, Bee, to get the anger out. But you gotta be careful, darlin’.” Roman locked eyes with her. “If you don’t stay ahead of your demons, they'll eat you alive.”

 _Good._ That was her first thought. Her next thought was interrupted.

“That sounds so intense, ye sourpuss.” Finn had evidently had enough of their conversation and decided he was a part of it now. Bayley and Roman both turned as he rose from sleeping across a few chairs and popped up from behind the seats, a ridiculous grin on his face. He was far too chipper, and his melodic accent just made it worse. Bayley and Roman blinked at his toothy smile and wild hair. “Well, I have no idea what we’re discussin', but color me intrigued!”

Roman rubbed his eyes, and for the first time Bayley noticed that he looked utterly exhausted. It had been nice that he’d tried to help, she knew, but couldn’t appreciate it past how livid she was that he’d tried to calm this… thing she was feeling. He brushed his hair out of his eyes with his hand and smoothed it. “I need a fuckin’ Cinnabon.” Roman made a bewildered face, like the addition of Finn to the conversation had broken his brain, and he could no longer maintain focus. Glassy-eyed, he got up, muttering “I’ll get you guys one too,” and wandered away.

 _“I need a fockin’ Cinnabon,”_ Finn mocked the deadpan way Roman had made that declaration. Bayley chuckled slightly, mostly out of politeness. You alright?” Finn asked, putting a hand on hers.

Bayley was still trying to pull herself out of the dark, turbulent undertow of rage that she’d tapped earlier. It had come over her like a swarm of insects, sinister and made of so many tiny, autonomous parts that she’d never fight it all away before it consumed her. She looked at Finn, and as he returned her gaze, she saw no pity, surprise, or disappointment in his eyes as she had with everyone else she’d hinted to that she was on the verge of something. She saw… “I’m just… I’m tired,” she said, never pulling her eyes from his.

“Bullshit.” Finn leaned closer to her. “I see you, Bayley. Don’t lie to me. I heard you tell him that something was coming, and Bayley… I know how you feel… and you’re right.” His eyes flashed fire and ice; rage and unnerving calm. “You’re ready to show them what they get for treating you like a kid, aren’tcha?”

Bayley’s gaze narrowed “I’m so angry, Finn. I’ve been putting up with it so long. I’m angry with myself for allowing it, but I’m _furious_ with them. I thought I was a good person.”

“You always will be,” he nodded, “but even angels reach their limits, dear, and righteous wrath is the purest." Somehow that sounded like a compliment.

To Bayley’s great surprise, she took it as one. It did feel pure. It felt unalloyed, stark, and deadly. “Yes,” she said simply. “Anger used to feel like poison to me, like weakness, but now… it’s like… it’s like…”

“An old friend,” Finn said slowly. “A very old friend.” 

“Yes. Yes,” she said, looking down.

“Listen to me carefully,” Finn said, locking his eyes with hers. “You know the things they say about me? Don’t think I don’t know. They think I'm batty, but… Sometimes the rage takes on life. I’ve learned how to harness it. When I want to be, I’m almost unstoppable…” 

Bayley recalled the first time she’d seen The Demon King. She’d been enthralled and mesmerized, almost hypnotized. “It’s just body paint,” she recalled Alexa saying, rolling her eyes, and it was, on the outside. But the way Finn had moved, the way he’d let the thing possess him… it felt so familiar, somehow. As far back as she could remember, she’d had dreams of stalking in the dark, of hunger, rage, blood. _Red. Black. Power._ They’d frightened her; she was terrified _that thing_ in her dreams was a part of her, an evil part. So she pushed it down further, she associated herself with bright colors and hugs, energy and excitement. But those didn’t shield her from the darkness that pursued her everywhere she went. It was like she was destined for darkness. Darkness clung to her; at once empty and stifling, like a night sky with no moon to cast shadows.

“I have it too,” she said, more a statement of fact than anything. A fact she’d outrun for years, now gently coming to roost while she sat in an airport gate at 2am. 

“You do,” said Finn. “And it suits you, more than you think. More than they know.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Listen, they haven’t treated me right either. And when I met you, I knew. I’ve waited for you to find her so you could help me. Make them pay.” He looked around to see who was watching them talk. Almost everyone was asleep. “I can’t do it alone, but with you, I could. We can make each other stronger.” 

“I found her,” Bayley said. “I feel her. And I’m not afraid of her anymore.” She felt weird having this conversation at an airport gate, but it didn’t feel like it could wait, either. She was ready, no longer tired, craving _release_. “Will I know what to do?”

“She’s much, much older than you. Hundreds of years, thousands, maybe. She’ll protect you if you give yourself to her, if you feed her anger. She knows what to do.” They saw Roman approaching, several Cinnabons in hand.

“So,” Bayley said quickly, “together, we can make them suffer. All of them.” It felt so good to say, and even better to know with certainty that it was true. “Next time you’re ready, Finn, I’ll be ready too.” She nodded resolutely. Roman silently handed them each a box containing a warm cinnamon roll, then left to distribute the rest.

“I’m glad you finally found her. We’ve been waiting for you," Finn said with a smile that wasn’t his own. 

 _The Demon King is always right there, isn’t he?_ She wondered how no one had noticed before, and from inside her somewhere, she felt the answer: _Demons hide best in plain sight_.

Finn opened his box, and shot a glance back at Bayley, leaning in so only she could hear him. _“Long live The Queen."_  



End file.
